


they say this place is haunted

by LittleBlueArtist



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, Ghosts, M/M, its 2021 and im starting it with danny fanfic, no beta we die like danny, same universe just theyre in college now, what a good start to the year for me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBlueArtist/pseuds/LittleBlueArtist
Summary: Danny Fenton is in college. He's left Phantom behind, and Amity Park with it. He's onto a better life now. A college degree. A daily routine that doesn't involve ghosts and fighting. That is, until someone from his past comes roaring into his present, and he might've taken all the wrong parts of Amity Park with him.
Relationships: Danny Fenton/Sam Manson (former), Dash Baxter/Danny Fenton
Comments: 29
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! i've recently gotten back into danny phantom and like.....all my Feelings about him came rushing back LOL. i hope to update this weekly as i've gotten a lot of it written out already. hope u enjoy!

The nightmares wake him again. He hardly remembers a day where they didn't. It seems like a dream itself now, to wake up to an alarm. A privilege he has forgotten, a memory that's fuzzy around the edges. Even though the moon still hangs, a bright spot in the night, Danny Fenton resorts to waking up. He's glad he's got a single room, even if it was more expensive. How do you explain to your roommate why your eyes glow in your sleep? You don't. That's how. 

Absently, Danny scratches his chest and grabs his hoodie. He zips it over his pajama shirt, shoves on a pair of sweats, and covers himself with the hood. His hair must look a mess, slick with sweat and messy from thrashing. He thought ghosts were supposed to go away once he sent them back, instead they cling to him, begging for another life inside his haunted sleep. 

Technically, he's not supposed to leave campus this late. It's against curfew. If anyone actually listened to that rule, the guard would actually care when he passes by. Instead, she just nods at him, her eyes looking as tired as his. She takes a sip of her coffee as he slips out the doors, the cool Vermont air washing over him. It's autumn. The leaves have started to turn, bright even against the starless night. 

Something tugs in his chest. Once upon a time, he wanted to be among those stars. Now, he can't even see them. 

He rips his eyes off the sky and shoves his earphones in, head down so he won't chance another glance. The 24/7 store is two blocks away, and Danny lets the cold seep into his bones as he goes. It wakes him up more and allows him to forget about the dreams. Usually, he'd call Tucker or Sam, but tonight, he doesn't think he can take their concerned faces. When Tucker and Sam left Amity Park, they left ghosts behind. Danny left to leave them behind, too, except they followed him. Continue to follow him. Everywhere. Every night.

Moving across the country to a small liberal arts school was his last-ditch effort. That and the fact he could only get in based on his English grades. If Lancer was good at anything, it was actually making sure he got a good grade in at least one subject. Ghost fighting almost flunked him out of school. He's doing better now. Now that there's no portals here. Now that no one has actually seen a ghost here. That they're just stories.

When Sam and Tucker found out they got into the trio's dream school and Danny didn't, they were willing to give it up. Give up everything for him. Again. He couldn't let them, not when he knew the programs there were perfect for them. Tucker's about to be one of the best mechanical engineers this generation's ever seen, and Sam is starting up her own eco-friendly fashion line, donating her inheritance to different charities along the way. 

And Danny is stuck. Dreaming about being kidnapped, ghosts strangling him, being dragged through buildings. He's stuck remembering what it feels like to die. He's stuck in the very things he convinced everyone he had moved on from. Even Jazz, who's going in for her Masters in psychology, has moved on from Amity Park. Danny slumps his shoulders. He's just. Stuck.

He's halfway through his English degree with no idea of what he wants to do. He thought he would always be the ghost kid. He never had the capacity to look at things past high school, not when he was trying to save everyone. Sam often flicked his nose, glaring at him in that harmless way she always did. She would always remind him he saved everyone except himself, and that maybe he should come first this time. He never did, though. She and Tucker and Jazz and his parents and Amity Park always came first. Always.

Now that he's in the middle of nowhere, he realizes maybe he should've listened to her. His body is taking the toll now he refused to feel back then, and even though he's not saving anyone anymore, Danny still feels like he comes in second. Even when he doesn't remember the last time he changed. Leaving Amity Park was like leaving Danny Phantom behind. Everything except the cloying memories. 

He reaches the corner store, hum of the lights digging in through his music. He hates that noise. Has a sudden urge to use his ecto-blast to pop them. Instead, he reaches for the door handle, and is suddenly reminded of two years ago, when it wasn't just him entering. Sam's hand was there, too, and so was Tucker's. Sam had flown them out as a last hoorah before they all went their mostly separate ways. They were still dating then, Sam and Danny. He remembers whispering in her ear, telling her they'll never break up. They'll stay together through college. 

They spent the weekend gorging on junk and being ghost free for the first time since Danny got his powers. Then they left, and Danny stayed. That was the last weekend Danny shifted. He and Sam broke up six months later on mutual terms. Too far apart, too tied down, and even though she didn't say it, Danny knew Sam had feelings for someone else. Tucker is dating a girl who can keep up with his engineering talk, and Sam is dating, of all people, Paulina.

Paulina, who grew up and became a decent human being. They ended up being in the same design classes, and now they're in the same beds. Danny's happy they're happy, and they keep the friendship strong with weekly movie nights and semester visits. It's been awhile since he's seen them in person, though. Since he's seen anyone in person. College was supposed to open him up to new people and horizons, but he took for granted just how much Sam and Tucker knew. It's hard. To tell anyone what they know. Let alone someone new. So he decided to just shut up. 

The cashier at the corner store looks like he wishes he could quit. Danny goes to the fridges and grabs three energy drinks. Never was one for coffee, he goes for the sugar rush. He slaps down some bills on the counter and doesn't even wait for change. Or a bag. He's got one can empty by the time he reaches the end of the parking lot anyway, and tosses it into the bin. He feels wired without it even kicking in, nightmares still swimming in his forebrain. He wishes he could send them back to the ghost zone, too.

Danny's still looking down when someone bumps into him. They're taller than him, shoulder bumping him too hard. The other two cans go down and Danny bends to pick him up. His hood slips, revealing his black hair to the night. For a second, Danny thinks the person who bumped into him is going to say sorry, because they've stopped walking. Instead, after a second that feels like hours, he hears, "...Fenton?"

He knows that voice. Feared and hated that voice for all of his compulsory schooling life. Felt the fists of that voice bruise the same ribs ghosts had broken. Another reminder that he couldn't have one fucking thing. Another reminder that ghosts weren't the only thing that wanted to see him break. "Baxter," he says. There's no surprise behind it. Not like his. Maybe there should be. He can't muster it.

Then, there's a hand in front of his face. It's tan, colored by sun. When Danny doesn't take it, it retreats. Danny scoops up his energy drinks and stands, looking at Dash Baxter. He's taller now, looming over Danny, who never grew. Dash has to be just over six feet. He's more defined now, not lost in teenage hormones and awkward growth spurts. He's filled the breadth of his shoulders, grown into his face and height. His hair's a bit longer now, coming down to his chin. He's got it tucked behind his ears. Only Dash could make that look somehow the most masculine thing on earth. 

"I didn't know you went here," he says, looking at the cans, then at Danny's face.

"I'm pretty sure you don't," Danny says back. There's a heat in his tone that wasn't there in high school. Except Danny isn't fifteen anymore, and neither is Dash.

The other boy rears back, taking a step away. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah. I do now. I wasn't a good fit at my old school. They brought me here to try and save the football team."

"We have a football team?"

"Exactly."

For the first time in the conversation, if he could call it that, Danny looks into Dash's eyes. They're the same blue they've always been, vibrant in the night. But Danny knows the look in those eyes. The eyes that have Amity Park in the irises. So, Dash got out, too. Good for him. "What about Kwan? Back for the dynamic duo?" he asks, shoving the remaining energy drinks in his pants pockets.

Dash laughs uncomfortably.  _ Good _ . "Kwan and I kinda fell off. He's in Virginia, switched to swimming over there. Still doing good, I think. We haven't spoken in awhile." There's a beat of awkward silence. Then another. And another. Until Dash speaks again. "Look man, all that shit in high school? It wasn't cool. We were dumb kids having dumb fun. We cool?" He sticks out his hand again, looking for a shake this time. 

_ Dumb fun _ . Dumb fun that tormented him every weekday of his life. Dumb fun that followed every aspect of his life for the first eighteen years of it. Dumb fun that can't even touch his nightmares. Danny looks at the hand. "No."

Dash stumbles. Nearly trips over himself. Retreats his hand, puts it firmly at his side. "Right," he says, jaw clenched. "Well. See you around, Fenton." He goes into the corner store. 

Danny watches after him, almost shell shocked. He figured he would never have to see that face again. Figured Dash would end up one of those guys who peaked in high school. Maybe he still will be, and maybe Danny will accompany him in that fate. But he didn't have to accompany him at his fucking school. Bullshit.

He fights off the wave of anger, knows it's from not enough sleep. Maybe food. Maybe everything. He chugs the next energy drink, thinks about crushing it completely in his hand. He hasn't done that in years. When he left Danny Phantom behind, he left everything, including the cool stuff that used to come so easily to him. When he left Danny Phantom behind he thinks he left most of himself, too.

He goes back to his dorm, crawls into his bed, and stares at the ceiling until his alarm blares. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for reading!! as always, kudos/comments are appreciated! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hewwo!! thank you for all the love on the last chapter. this one is a little longer so i hope u enjoy!

Sam's on FaceTime with him. She's got him on her bookcase so he can see most of the room. Sam is working on reorganizing some of her books, leafing through a few for resources she may have forgotten. Paulina is at her desk, working on something in her sketchbook. She's got her hair up in a bun, usually a sign that she's concentrating. They decided to move into the same dorm at the beginning of the semester, swapping roomies. Tucker is sitting on Sam's bed, typing away at something on his laptop. Probably an overdue paper for a class he doesn't want to take. Tucker has a bad habit of putting off his required courses.

They've been working in silence for the better part of an hour. This is how most of their sessions go. Danny is writing an analytical paper on some classic novel he doesn't really care about. It wasn't one of his favorites. He's flipping through the pages when it comes out. He doesn't mean it to, it just sort of slips. It's already been a week, and this is the first time they've been as close to face to face as they can be. He had already decided not to tell them, didn't need any extra drama of it. It just sort of comes out on his own.

"Dash is here."

Everything stops. The soft skritch of Paulina's pencil. The soothing ruffling of Sam's book pages. Even the too-hard typing of Tucker's computer. The entire room freezes, and almost in unison, they all look at the camera. "What?" Paulina asks, turning towards him. It's like he can feel her eyes boring into him.

"Dash. Baxter. From high school. He transferred here."

Sam snaps whatever book she's holding closed. "Are you okay?" She gets closer to the camera, and he can see she's cut her hair again. It's shorter now than ever, a buzz on everywhere except the front, where long side bangs go down to her cheekbones.

"I'm fine, Sam. This isn't high school."

Paulina looks up from her phone. "Weird he didn't tell me," she says.

Tucker pipes up from the back, "You still talk to him?"

Paulina shrugs, letting her hair down. Whatever concentration she had is over. "Every now and then. I knew he and Kwan weren't really talking anymore, wanted to make sure he's okay. We were all shitty in high school, but he was still my friend."

"Yeah, don't have to remind me," Sam says, though there's no heat in her tone. Those deeds had been long forgiven by her.

Still, Paulina frowns. "I don't know why he wouldn't have told me. That's a big move. He used to go to UCLA."

Danny balks. " _ Dash  _ got into UCLA?"

Sam looks at Danny with one of her signature bright smiles. The smile that made him fall for her. Sometimes, he wonders if they should've tried harder. He wonders if he made more of an effort to go to her, to take all her calls, if they would still be together. But they're not. So he shoves the thoughts out of his head. "Didn't you ever bother to look at the class list?" she says. "Dash was number four."

"Who was number one?"

From the back, Tucker sheepishly raises his hand. "I can't believe you didn't know that."

Danny laughs. A real laugh. The first one he's done in ages. For a second, he forgets about his sleepless nights and lonely days. "Where was I?" he asks.

Sam winces. "You really want to know?" she says, because she won't lie to him. 

Danny sobers up. "Yeah."

"Um," she says, scratching her chin. "I'm sorry, Danny. I thought you knew. You were the lowest GPA in the class." There's a beat of silence before Sam's scrambling to fill it. "But it's because, you know, you were–" she stops. Paulina still doesn't know. Danny never told her, and Sam would never dare. They never had a conversation about it. It's a silent agreement, between the three of them. No one else will ever know. They can't know. "You had that job, and handling your parents and stuff. It was a lot for a kid to handle."

"Besides, you're doing a lot better now," Tucker says, closing the lid on his laptop. Being a genius came easy to him. Tucker never had the problems with numbers and school Danny had. He would somehow ace things without studying, would always get an easy A where Danny struggled for a D. It was probably the most frustrating thing about their friendship, but Tucker is and always will be his best friend, so he got over it. He just forgets how much it still stings. "Are you liking what you're studying?"

Danny looks down at his book. He's got two words highlighted. "Yeah," he says, forcing a smile. "I'm taking a paranormal literature class this semester. We're in our vampire unit. Mostly origins and impact and stuff."

Sam frowns. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Thought it would be interesting."

Tucker sighs. "Let me guess. There's a unit on ghosts."

Danny finger guns at him from the camera, feeling lighter than he has in ages. He forgets how long it's been since he's hugged the both of them when they talk like this. Forgets how long it's been since he's actually talked to someone. "You got it."

"Ugh, I will be so happy if I never see another ghost again," Paulina says. News of ghosts never really left Amity Park. Only those who've lived there  _ know _ , and they certainly all understand. Ghosts out here are still just things of conjecture and half-baked stories. They don't beat the living shit out of you. They don't–

Danny cuts himself off. He doesn't need that. Not right now. "Seriously," he says.

Tucker and Sam give him a sidelong glance. Sam breaks the silence first. "Has anyone heard any news on anyone else?" she asks, mainly looking at Paulina. Mostly because Paulina is the most likely to have kept touch. Even though she was the central mean girl of Casper High, she still had a knack for knowing everyone's name. Even now, she somehow still remembers them.

Paulina flips through her phone, her thumb scrolling for news. "Uh," she says, looking at something on her screen. "Kwan's still swimming at his school. He's dating some new chick. Valerie is working with her Dad and helping train new specialty security recruits. Most people went to Amity Park University, so there's not much else than that. We're some of the only ones who left."

"And thank whatever you want for that," Danny laughs. He glances at his homework, but the mood's been broken, and he's exhausted. He's got another hour before his next class. Maybe he'll finally sleep. "Hey, I'm gonna switch off. I'll see you guys for movie night?"

"Yeah!" Tucker says, perking up. It's his turn to pick. Before Danny can switch off, though, Tucker comes closer. As much as he and Sam are close, as much of each other they've seen, no one knows Danny like Tucker. They've known each other since they were in kindergarten, and Tucker is the only one who can annoyingly see what's happening behind the scenes. "Hey, man, you alright? You look..." He doesn't have to finish. He looks like shit.

"Yeah, I'm good, man. Just a little tired."

"Yeah, dude. Just. You know you can call us right?"

Danny smiles. It feels forced, and he knows Tucker sees it. "Yeah. See you in a few days, Tuck." He ends the call before anyone can say anything else. Doesn't know if he'll hold up if Tucker tries to get the truth. Is scared that maybe, finally, he will break.

_ He's in a cage. Alone. In the ghost zone. Skulker resurfaced at night, when Danny was too exhausted to fight like he should've. School. Friends. Relationships. All things that cut out pieces of him until he felt like one of those paper snowflakes, littered with holes. He was at the library, then he's in a cage. His hands are shackled, but he's still in the ghost zone. He can get out. Easily even. He struggles for a second, looks on to an empty room. Skulker isn't there to watch him at the moment, so with a deep breath, Danny lets the change sweep over him. _

_ He never explained to anyone what it feels like. It feels like a heart attack. The breath being punched out of his lungs. His muscles morphing under his skin. He hasn't just died once. He dies every time he changes. A twinge of pain he's used to by now. Nothing like the first time.  _

_ He can feel his breath come back to him, oxygen traveling back into his muscles and joints. It starts, and with a jolt, it stops. The handcuffs electrocute him, send a wave of agony down to his bones. Keep him dead, intend to hurt him beyond human belief. But he's not human here. He's a ghost. _

_ "Trying to escape already, ghost boy?" Skulker says, rounding a corner into the room.  _

_ Danny wants to tear his face off. He's not fourteen anymore, he's almost eighteen. He's going to college soon. He's dating Sam. He's stronger than he's ever been before. He is not the scared little boy Skulker first encountered all those years ago. "I'll rip you out of that mechanical suit myself," he snarls, straining in his chains. _

_ Skulker laughs. Laughs like Danny is not a threat. "I think I liked you better when you had witty comebacks." _

_ "Witty comebacks are reserved for ghosts who don't try to routinely kill me." _

_ His cage is being opened. His back aches. Pain feels different as a ghost. He can feel it, definitely, but it never seeps through. Human pain, things like backaches and broken bones and ripped tendons, those don't register like they should. Vaguely, Danny knows they're there. It's not until he shifts back that he can feel them, rushing on him all at once like he ever stood a chance. He's gotten good at pretending it doesn't, that his hurt goes away with his ghost. It doesn't. But he heals fast. _

_ "I don't want to kill you," Skulker says, opening a different cage. "You'll just make a beautiful addition to my collection. As always. Here. Meet your new roommates." _

_ He throws Danny in. The ghost boy tumbles before coming to a stop. This cage is cramped, too, not enough space for him to even sit up properly. And there's other things here. Nameless, faceless things that glow green and have red eyes. Things that have lost themselves to time and pain. Things that have withered in Skulker's collection. _

_ The lock clicks into place before Danny even has time to think. Then they're touching him. Creeping on his shoulders, curling around his ankles. One of them squeezes his thigh, too tight, would cut off circulation if he had any. Overbearing. Forcing him. Keeping him, withering him down and he can't– _

_ "Get off me!" he yells, ripping one from his skin. These blobs that used to be something. These things that might have been human. "Get them off! Get off me!" _

_ One of them opens its mouth. If it even is a mouth. Disgusting and rotted and missing pieces, it creates words in a voice that's too familiar. "Danny!" _

_ "No! Get off me! Get off!" _

_ "Danny! Wake up! Dann-  _ Danny!"

With a start, Danny wakes up, launching to his feet and scrambling back. He trips over someone's foot and goes down hard, landing directly on his ass. His hands. He checks his hands. One of them has gone intangible. Feeling like he did six years ago, he shoves both under his armpits, closing his eyes and willing it to go away. He hasn't used his powers like this in years. Where did his control go?

He's not in his bed. Where is he? There's so many eyes on him, so many things  _ looking at him _ . He can't handle this. He has to calm down. He can feel the start of the change, tingling in his bones. The sharp jolt of electricity, the twinge in his chest. He can't shift here. Never here.  _ Breathe, Danny _ . 

He shoves his head into his knees. Takes the breaths like Sam always told him to. The breaths that got him out of panic and anxiety attacks. He pretends like she's still there, rubbing his back and running a hand through his hair. Her hands always made him better. He knows, somewhere, that it was a mutual agreement to break up, but right then he's hurt. And he lets the hurt ground him. Bring him back. He lets the hurt ache in his chest so the feeling of dying won't linger. Slowly, he can come back. Slowly, he steadies. When he pulls his arm out, it's visible again. A normal human arm.

He doesn't know how long it's been. Anywhere from seconds to minutes. But he knows where he is now. He's in his epic poetry class. He...wasn't he supposed to nap before coming here? Wasn't he supposed to sleep in bed, like a normal kid? That's what Danny Fenton is after all. He's just a normal kid. He barely even remembers stepping into the classroom, let alone falling asleep in it. 

Who...Who woke him? He searches frantically for the culprit, eyes wild and breaths quickening again. Until he lands on a face he still hates. A face he may never like again. His hands are out, like he wants to touch but is scared to move.  _ Good _ . 

"Daniel, are you alright?"

Danny whips his eyes to the front of the room. His professor. Fuck. He actually likes her. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm sorry."

She frowns. Not in a bad way. In the way only a mom of five sons can frown. "Why don't you excuse yourself from the class, Daniel. Send me an email when you're feeling better. Mr. Baxter, please retake your seat."

Dash backs down, but he doesn't do so without looking back at him. Danny scrambles to get up, feels like going invisible, and scoops up his bag before throwing it over his shoulder. He, of course, is sitting in the back of the room, and he hates how quiet it is. At least until he gets near the door. He's no less than five paces from it, when he sees it. He knows how bullying works. Knows how it works with everyone from humans to ghosts. He knows that the guy with buzzed hair and sharp brown eyes in the front is queueing up his next target. Didn't they leave that shit in high school?

"Get them off me!" he squeaks, rubbing his shoulders up and down.

Danny tenses. He aches to show him just what he meant. He wishes to show this guy exactly what it's like to have ghosts crawling around you until you cannot tell if you're one of them or not. To have to claw your way out of handcuffs and spend hours tending to raw wrists. To have to pretend none of that shit hurt the next day because you're a teenager and nothing hurts.

He feels the twinge. Deep in his bones. The yearning to shift. For the first time in years, he wants Danny Phantom back. Because, after all, who has he been without him? He spent his formative years honing ghostly skill, putting in hours with a punching bag, and saving his town where no one else could. Even if half the town hated him, and his own parents tried to kill him, he still  _ helped  _ people. And between all that Phantom helping, there was never any room for Fenton. There was never any room for him to become someone else. So who is he now that Danny Phantom is gone? Is he anyone?

Danny doesn't get the chance to do anything. Instead, the professor snaps, "Mr. Darrow, why don't you tell us if you're pro or against Aeneid being used as Roman propaganda under Augustus?  _ Now."  _

That shuts him up, and Danny sends a silent thank you before slipping out the door. He's exhausted. He heads back to his dorm. The door is the only one in the hall that's blank. It's like a tradition here. Everyone covers their door with something, be it a poster or white board. 

On his first night here, the first night alone, Danny put up Sam's patch. The proud  _ D  _ that stood bright on his suit. She had made it for him as a goodbye gift, and curled it into his hand with her goodbye kiss. He put it up on the wall as they left, tears clogging his throat for no real reason. It felt like two thirds of him was walking away, and he had fought down the anger and shame of not getting into his first choice. Or second. Or third. Or fourth.

Instead, he slammed the patch onto the door and went to bed.

That first night was the worst. He was the only one from Amity Park in the school, he was sure of it. He was the only one who knew what that symbol would mean. He was the only one who bore the weight of it. When he tried to sleep that night, he couldn't. That symbol was like a beacon. Any ghost would know it. The ghost world was vast, but news traveled. Ghosts he had never met knew his name, spread in their world like a plague.

He kept thinking they would come get him. That, after all the effort he put into getting away, they would find him just as fast. He didn't sleep a wink that night, and the next morning, he tore the patch off. It's in his desk drawer, and he knows Sam's noticed, but she's never said anything. Danny's been too ashamed to tell her why. 

So, his door is still blank. He gets weird looks, he knows. He doesn't talk much. Not like he used to. In the beginning, Tucker and Sam would ask if he met anyone new, if he had any plans. He knew it was so they didn't feel as bad canceling. Every now and then they still do. They're all adults, all of them have lives to attend to. Danny not as much, but sometimes he pretends he does because it makes them happy. He wonders, vaguely, if he stopped texting how long it would take them to notice. Would they be happy? To be finally rid of the boy who put their lives in danger so many times? To be rid of the boy who brought them so many hardships in high school? 

Maybe he should've just stayed a ghost forever.

His phone dings. It's the group chat. The one that's just still them, where they can talk about the inside jokes and things Paulina can't know. The text is from Sam. It's a photo. Danny swipes it open. Tucker's next to her, Paulina presumably on the other side. In the middle is a bowl of popcorn. They're in some sort of garden, with a projector and the cover of the movie is on the screen. The epic trio showdown of Terminatra, Femalien, and Nightmerica. 

The speech bubbles pop up.  _ Wish you were here! _

Danny smiles. It's a really bad fucking movie. But he wishes he was there too. He texts her back saying as much, and then chases the thoughts away. He's got Sam and Tucker, always. He can't let himself forget that.

Looking at the clock, Danny groans, and then picks up his wallet. 

Another energy drink run it is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i took a wee bit of civil liberty about how smart dash is LOL. also for those outside the US, UCLA=University of California, Los Angeles which = a really good school. Thanks for reading! As always comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for another chap! thank you guys for all the feedback <3

It's one of the rare times Danny goes into town. There's a bookstore there he likes. He makes a beeline for the photography section. Every now and then, they'll have some more used donations, or even a surprise new release, because even though he has five volumes of them in his dorm, he can't get enough of space exploration photos. The glossy pages, the way the stars look like they may just pop out of the page. It's the one guilty pleasure he never grew out of. 

The owner smiles at him as he comes in. He knows why Danny is here, and nods towards the photography shelves. Danny goes over to it and browses the titles, and he doesn't find anything new. Not that he really expected anything. He picks up one of the used books and flips through it, pages slightly smudged and worn. Someone else loved this book long before he ever touched it, and for some reason, that makes him sad. That they just discarded it. 

It's about planets. He didn't intend to buy it, but then he's paying for it at the counter and walking out with it under his arm. He looks up at the leaves. When he first saw them it felt like a dream. Like waking up to beautiful fire. Like maybe the stars had come to greet him. Watching the thousands of Vermont trees turn orange was beautiful, but he's not as shocked at it now that it's been two years. It's still beautiful, though, and he finds himself looking up at them as he walks. This is something he definitely prefers over Amity Park.

The leaves are starting to turn more orange the closer it gets to Halloween. It's almost a week out now, and Danny finds himself spending more and more time in his room. As the common room gets taken over for horror movie nights, as people jump scare their friends in the hall. He knows he can't take it. That he will flip out at the wrong move, the wrong scene will send him over the edge, and he'll blow up everything he's tried so hard to keep together.

He's never been a fan of horror movies, anyway.

The leaves draw his eyes away from the crowd. It's not until he's out onto the residential streets, only a few minutes to the winding path back to campus, does he realize it's gone dark. "Shit," he mutters, old habits flooding back into his veins. Being out late always meant something bad, and he finds himself speeding up until the corner of the book digs into his ribcage. Right. He's safe. He's on his way back to school. There's nothing chasing him.

He hates himself a little, for getting so caught up in his memories. Hates himself for still being affected by things that happened so many years ago. Jazz told him the word for it once. _Trauma_ . She said he'd been _traumatized_. It sounded so bad coming out of her mouth. So...so real. Too real. He'd hated it. So he did with it like he did everything: stuffed it deep into his brain and resolved to never think of it again. 

He's so caught up with thinking about Jazz that he doesn't even see the other person coming towards him. They bump into him, and it's a girl. He doesn't recognize her, but she's young. Probably from the high school in the next town over. She reminds him a little of Sam, with her short black ponytail. She barely moves him, but the girl jumps back, eyes wide. "S-s-sorry," she stutters out, trying to move past him.

Danny can't help it. He knows he shouldn't ask, but maybe the thrill of his past life is zinging through his blood. If only for a second. "Hey, are you okay? You look pretty spooked."

"I-I'm fine," she says, wrapping her arms around herself. She looks around wildly, eyes still as wide as they'll go.

"Are you sure? You look like you've seen–" the word punches him in the gut. He feels it, a fist to the stomach, forcing the rest of the sentence out. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

The girl shrinks back from him, looking past him now. Behind him, where she was coming from. "L-l-look," she stutters out, wrapping herself so tight it's like she wishes she could disappear. Danny feels that feeling deep in his chest. Understands it so well he wants to make sure she never feels it again. "The o-old house o-o-on the block." 

"I thought that place was abandoned?"

"I-I-It is," she says, backing up again. She takes a deep breath. "It is. They make people go i-in it every year. Usually m-make it scary. It was different this time."

Danny looks behind him, and he sees a small group of kids at the end of the street. When he looks back to the girl, she's gone, running down the street that leads to downtown. There's bus stops there, she's probably headed back home. He can't help her now, so he shrugs, book still tucked into his arm, and heads down to the end of the block.

It's mostly college kids. He recognizes most of them from campus, but there's a few high school kids who have snuck into the fun. Danny bumps into one of them trying to get a good look at the front of the house. It's not particularly scary. Sure, it looks a little run down. But it's not one of those looming, broken-down abandoned places. It just has no inhabitants and a little bit of an overgrown lawn. Not scary in the least.

Still, he sees two kids come running out, strangled screams caught in their throats. Danny looks at the crowd of them, and there's a few people in his classes that he recognizes. They're laughing and high-fiving each other, giving the two kids a wide berth. And they're young. Definitely not college. Maybe freshman in high school. Too young to be doing whatever it is those guys have planned. 

He finds the person closest to him and grabs their shoulder, not even pretending to be nice. This was supposed to be a quiet night at the bookstore, and now he finds himself a little ticked off. "What's going on here?" he asks, adding a little heat to his tone. He's not very tall, or broad, but Danny spent enough time with monsters to learn how to act like one.

The kid under his hand goes pale. "Just a prank!" he says, trying to wriggle free.

"A prank? What prank?"

The kid yanks his shoulder out of Danny's grip. "Well, you know," he smiles, ducking back into the crowd. "They say this place is haunted."

Danny wants to grab him again, but there's a commotion up front before he can. A new person has entered the group, bigger than most others and broad, and with the shock of blond hair, he knows who it is. Really, he shouldn't be surprised.

He pushes past the other people who have gathered around, either to get scared or watch those get scared. He's had enough. He just wants to go home and read with the stars, pretend that one day he'll actually get there. The book jams into his skin as someone pushes against him. That just makes him angrier. He just wants to go home, he's had enough of this Halloween shit. 

The closer to the front he gets, the less the voices sound like one of a crowd. He can pick a few out in general, an argument, it seems like. He doesn't care. Let them argue, it doesn't fucking matter. He doesn't do this anymore. He doesn't save people anymore. How can he? He can barely save himself.

He's almost to the edge of the crowd when the voices get louder, shouting above the rest. He knows at least one of them, and what it's saying shocks him enough that he stops, taking a second to listen. "Listen, man, you can't be doing this. How old is that kid? Thirteen? This is seriously messed up."

"Come on, Baxter. The house isn't even that scary. Plus, easy way to make a quick buck. These kids always beg to see it."

"Did you see that girl? Something in there is fucked up, man."

One of the voices laughs, short and choppy. Ugly. "Don't you know, Dash? They say this place is haunted."

Danny freezes. It's the second time he's heard that tonight. Unease creeps up his spine. He doesn't _do_ haunted anymore. 

Dash talks back, not backing down. He's easily the biggest guy in the group, but some of the others have enough muscle to make a fair fight. Something that Danny never acquired himself. He always relied on Phantom's strength and never seemed to bulk up, no matter how many hours he spent at the gym. "Haunted? You wouldn't know a ghost if it bit you in the ass."

Danny tenses. He wants to say something. His legs have turned to stone. Instead, whoever Dash is fighting with laughs back, "What, and you would?"

There's a pause. "Whatever, man. Just shut this shit down."

Danny means to go. He really does. But he can't. He can't move. The other voice comes back, easy laugh stuck in his throat. "Hey, isn't that the Fenton kid? You guys are buds, right? Think you could make him go through? Kid is so fucking weird. Don't think I've ever heard him speak except the whole shit with _get off me_! You know?"

Danny wants to run. He wants to run until he can't feel his legs, until they ache with the pain of moving. Until his lungs burn and his chest hurts. He wants to run until _haunted_ and _weird_ are no longer words in his vocabulary. Instead, a hand clamps down on his shoulder. It's the guy from his class. The one who mocked him before he left. He doesn't even know this dude's name. 

He's big, though. The most even match for Dash. Not even close to one for Phantom. "Daniel, right?" He doesn't let go of Danny. Instead, he looks directly at Dash, forcing Danny to look at him, too. "I'll make you guys a deal. Get through the house, bring me back the toy I hung on the top floor, and I'll shut it down. Promise."

"You made this thing a game?" Dash says, coming towards them. 

Danny does not miss the way the guy from class steps back. Revels in it before ripping himself out of the grasp. "I'm not getting involved," he says, replacing the book that had fallen. 

The guy from class sighs in that fake sigh kind of way. "Then I guess we shall go on, scaring impressionable young teens who'll need years of therapy to make it up."

Just as he says it, the house's latest victims come pouring out. One of them is limping, like she tried so hard to get away that she didn't care what she hurt. Like she chose survival over herself. Danny goes numb. He grits his teeth. " _Fi_ _ne_ ," he says, shoving the book into the hands of the jerk. "But when we come back, this thing is over, got it?"

The guy laughs. "Yeah, sure dude."

Before he can say anything, Danny grabs Dash and lugs him towards the door. He can't ignore this, not when that girl looked so scared. Danny has seen it too many times before. On himself. On his friends. Hell, even on Dash. That was more than haunted house scared. That was terror in its most primal form, and even though he is not Phantom anymore, he's still human. He is still his parent's child, and it's ingrained in him to help when he can. 

It's not until they're inside, the door closed behind him, does he realize how dark it is. He used to be able to shift so naturally into his ghost powers that he never had a problem seeing in the dark, but it's clumsy now, and he refuses to tap into them after so long. He can do this as Danny Fenton. He can do this as a human.

He and Dash have been stuck in a house before. This won't be that bad. If he could do it as Danny Fenton then, he can do it as Danny Fenton now. 

"Sorry I dragged you into this," he says, starting towards the staircase. Nothing spooky yet.

"Let's just get this over with," Dash says back, keeping pace with him.

It's easier to see now, what little light there is outside seeping through the windows. The wind rustles in the cracks of the walls, but that can't be what's scaring everyone so badly. "Why do you even care?" Danny says, gripping the bannister. The house isn't even that old, he doesn't know why he has this feeling like it could fall apart at any second. 

"Because it's fucked up, dude. Those kids looked really scared."

"Yeah, Dash Baxter, defender of the defenseless," he snorts, moving up again.

Dash sighs, and the creak of his moving stops. The stairs settle. "I was scared, man," he says, looking up at Danny from a few stairs below. "I got _possessed,_ and if I said that to anyone now they would look at me like I used to look at you. How I was then...it's not how I am now. Except the athlete part. I'm still good at that." 

Danny doesn't say anything back. He can't. There's so much anger building inside him because _he was scared, too._ So many more times than Dash. So much harder than Dash. So much _everything_ than Dash and what, now he's using it as an excuse? But Dash isn't half ghost. Dash is all human, and ghosts still used him like their puppet. He takes a few deep breaths, settling the storm inside him, and speaks. "You tormented me," he says finally, voice forcefully flat. "I can't just forget that because you've grown as a person."

Dash holds up his hands. "You don't have to. Let's just get through this house and split ways, okay, Fenton? Not like we haven't seen worse."

The tension fizzles back into something Danny can handle, and they start their ascent up the stairs again. The wind whistles into his ear, a small crack in the foundation in the wall letting it through. When they get to the window at the top of the staircase, Danny finds one of the guys staring at him, like he was waiting. He's got a beer in his hand, Danny's book in the other.

Dash comes in behind him, looking at the guy on the ground. "Douche," he mutters, turning the corner. 

Danny doesn't say anything, just follows. They're in a hallway now, one that seems impossibly long. Like they've slipped into a maze that is somehow one straight line. Each door is decorated in some sort of sigil, painted on hastily with red paint that's supposed to look like blood. Maybe to a random kid it would, but it's not. He knows it's not.

Dash is up ahead of him, peering into some door, when Danny feels it. That tingle down his spine like icy claws raking over his skin. The way every hair on his body stands on end. How a cold ball of dread settles heavy in his stomach, slowly creeping up his throat and spilling over his tongue until he's forced to let it out, a puff of breath too cold for the climate. For a second, he doesn't know what it is. He's forgotten the feel of it, he's forgotten what it is like to spend every second of his life on high alert.

The breath hangs in the air a beat too long and just as the realization crawls through his brain, there's a loud crash from above. Dash is instantly back at his side, and they look up at the ceiling in unison. There must be an attic, because another crash sounds, and that feeling of dread in his stomach is turning into a ball of lead. 

He knows what that is now. What that feeling overwhelming him is. Why his fight or flight is going into overdrive, Phantom wanting one and Fenton wanting the other. For the first time in two years, the first time since leaving Amity Park, Danny's ghost sense has gone off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! As always, kudos/comments are appreciated. ily! if you want to follow me elsewhere, i can be found on tumblr @criminallyoverated! (for whatever reason, ao3 is preventing me from putting a link, sorry)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i wanna say thank you to everyone who's left kudos and comments. the notifs really make my day <3\. this is the last prewritten chapter i have, so i'll try to stay once a week but with 2 jobs and a full college load it might end up being biweekly. thanks for understanding!

Danny wants to crawl out of his skin. In reality, he can feel the pulse of the change right underneath it. It's an automatic response, something he has long forgotten but his muscles still cling to. He can't. Not with Dash right there. Not after all this time. Still, Dash won't scare off easily, Danny knows that much. He also knows there's a ghost in this house, and he has nothing to stop it. Paranoia wouldn't let him leave it in Amity Park, but the Fenton Thermos is collecting dust under his bed, a relic he cannot bear to dig up.

"Fenton, we have to–"

"You go," Danny barks, pushing Dash away. "I'm the kid of ghost hunters. I'll handle it."

"Are you kidding me?" Dash says, almost sounding incredulous. "If you would let me finish. I was going to say we have to  _ check it out."  _

Right. Dash grew up in Amity Park, too, where everyone is perpetually in a bad horror movie. Either way, he's not going to be able to get Dash to leave. So he'll have to do this as Fenton, then. For all the good he's worth. Quietly, Danny points to the ceiling, though he knows it's no use. The ghost knows they're there. " _ Attic _ ," he mouths, hoping the act will tell Dash to stop talking.

Thankfully, the blond seems to get the point. Together, as silently as they can, they creep down the rest of the hall. As they go, Danny traces the sigils on the doors with his eyes. They all look harmless, badly reproduced from an occult book probably. It isn't until they get all the way to the end, where another set of stairs lay, that Danny stops. The noise upstairs is ever-present. There’s more crashing from whatever's been abandoned in the attic, but he can't seem to put one foot in front of the other.

He has to, before Dash notices that he's not following him anymore. So he forces himself to unroot from the dreadfully ugly carpet, and starts up behind the taller man. The stairs lead to the third floor, where the hatch for the attic probably is. The stairs themselves have a cupboard at the base, with a little door to open it. No bigger than a storage cabinet would warrant, but the sigil on there was different. Danny recognized it. It was painted in black, not red, and with a delicate hand. Not like the other signs, clearly splattered with drunken brushes. That one was done meticulously. Danny knows he's seen before. A long time ago, when he had actually started reading the books his mother kept locked up in the secret chest under the bed. The books she didn't want him or Jazz seeing. 

It's a summoning sigil. It's fuzzy, but he remembers the chapters on sigils. A summoning sigil can be used to do two different things. Ghosts powerful enough have their own sigils, a calling card. If a human uses that, they're willing to give anything to make a pact. The other type of sigil is almost like a one-use portal. It calls upon a  _ type  _ of ghost, and the first one out is the one who gets to use the portal before it closes. These, Danny remembers, are mostly used by people who study witchcraft, but the bad kind. At least, that's what the book said. 

As he catches up to Dash and they creep up the stairs, Danny can't get the sigil out of his head. Someone did that on purpose. It couldn't have been the stupid guy who dared him in here, he probably did the other ones. Someone else knew exactly what they were doing and painted that on. This ghost isn't an accident. He curls his fist.

Before he can say anything, Dash stops short in the middle of the new hallway they've entered. Danny nearly runs into his back, and he follows Dash's unblinking gaze. Right above them, a string sways. There's a metal ring attached to it that’s rusted over, and it’s something that looks older than the house. Silently, Dash reaches up to it. He has to stand on his tiptoes to reach it. Carefully, he hooks one finger into the ring and gives it a tug. With a groan so loud it seems like the house itself is making it, the hatch falls open. An old wooden ladder falls out, two or three rungs broken or rotted with age. It's like the rest of the house has left this little piece behind and it shows all its years. 

The attic is silent.

Whatever crashing around was happening has stopped. Neither boy moves. It's like if they move, if they go in there, everything around them will shatter. Dash raises an eyebrow and looks over his shoulder.  _ You ready?  _ is splayed over his face, one hand already gripping a side of the ladder. 

Danny nods, even though he isn't, and puts his hand on the other side. Dash goes first, the ladder groaning under his bulk. When he reaches the top, he latches a hand around Danny's wrist and hauls him up with too little effort. "See anything?"

That cold ball of dread in his stomach has become a ticking time bomb. Danny doesn't have to see anything to know that something is there. His ghost sense overwhelms him, urging him to seek out the threat. Urging him to shift, to protect himself in the only way he knows how. Instead of listening, Danny says, "No, but something's here."

"What're the odds it's a serial killer?" Dash says, eyes narrowing as they sweep across the room. Cold, calculated, eyes that study other football players to see their fatal flaws. 

"The same odds that my parents are secretly serial killer hunters," Danny says, though his voice is tight in his throat. He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to be anywhere near here. He wants his book back and a shitty cup of watery coffee and the blanket Jazz gave him last time she saw him. He wants to be home. He wants to forget everything because this isn't who he is anymore. It hasn't been for a long time. 

"I'd say not very good."

The voice isn't his or Dash's. It's a woman's, deep and sultry but with a bit of Southern twang. It comes from inside the attic, a voice that can't possibly be there. It comes from in front of Dash, so Danny steps forward, trying to get a good look at whoever it is. The woman has the deathly glow of a ghost, sick and withered. Her body is long forgotten somewhere but her spirit stays strong, digging its nails into this reality.

She would be pretty if she were still alive. Long black hair, a silky black dress with red lipstick still staining her lips. If she were alive, and not about to try and kill them, Danny would probably be drooling over her. But she's dead. And she's definitely about to kill them. 

When she looks at him, recognition does not burn in her eyes. Hatred does not glimmer in her pupils, a grin eating her mouth at the chance to make him fully ghost. It's almost like a shock to him. She doesn't know who he is. She doesn't know Danny Phantom. Danny's fingers twitch at his sides.

Dash is stock still beside him, eyes wide and face pale. It has been two years, after all. Two years is a long time to forget about something you don't want to remember in the first place. The ghost slinks towards them, all hips and soft steps, and goes right up to Dash. Her hand wraps around his chin, forces his eyes onto her, and she smiles. Her breath is rotten like the rest of her. Dash doesn't seem to notice. "You're interesting," she smiles, glaring into his pupils like she can stare into his soul. "I like you. You're scared, but not as scared as the others." 

Dash doesn't make a sound beneath her grip. He's barely even breathing, and now Danny's fingers are banging out a rhythm on his thigh because they want to reach for what they cannot have. They want to reach inside himself and pull out his ghost, force it forward and let it swallow them until it's all he'll ever know. He turns his hand into a fist. The ghost pushes a strand of Dash's hair behind his ear, and just as fast, tosses him away.

He flies back into a wall, bringing down a shelf whose nails have rusted over. The wood crumbles over Dash's head, sawdust now staining his hair, but he manages to block most of the contents that were on it, just coughing through the dust. Now that her hands are free, the ghost grips Danny's face, one hand squishing his cheeks together with a strength he has forgotten. Ghosts are strong, like him, but not in this form. In this form they are so much stronger.

She brings her face close to him, eyes searching for something in his own that she doesn't find. "But you," she purrs, her face just centimeters from his, "you're not scared at all."

"Fenton, we need to get out of here," Dash says. His voice is strained. He's hurt somewhere.

Danny tugs out of the ghost's grip, and even though he doesn't change he can't fight the rush of adrenaline in his veins. Phantom pushes to the surface in the only way Danny allows. He feels it in his vocal cords and pushing over his tongue. "Why would I be? You're like the 15th scariest ghost I've ever seen." 

The woman angers at that, her body phasing into a larger form as fury fuels her spirit. "You will  _ not _ insult Arameya you insolent child. My strength could crush you to your core."

"Been there, done that. You got anything better to say?"

She rushes at Danny, her hands placing themselves firmly on his chest and pushing him backwards, sending him crashing into Dash and causing something to create a split in his side. There's blood on his clothes now, the smell staining his nose. It hits him all at once. Memories he had been trying so hard to erase forever come back full force. All of the violence he swore he would never get into again, all of the times a ghost had hands around his throat, all the times he came back and fought himself to the surface. All the times he had thought about letting go, about giving Phantom full control. 

Just as fast as he can feel those moments again, they fade into the background as he moves positions, sliding away from Dash to take his weight off the other man. The pain in his side overrides the things that give him his nightmares. More blood seeps through his shirt, staining the floor now, staining his skin as he tries to catch it. It's warm. It's  _ warm _ .

He's here. He's Danny. And he's alive.

"Fenton," Dash groans, flopping his head towards Danny. "She knocked me good. Something in my back is bruised."

"It's okay, Dash, I'm alright. I’ll get us out of here." He says the words through grit teeth, forcing the noise past his lips. He's not okay. But he can do this part. He can do this part.

"Lying like that? Don't you know, boy?" Arameya says, because she's still there. She gets close to him again, her face showing flickers of who she used to be, the gorgeous woman she used to live as, in between the rot and dead pallor of who she is now. Her breath fans over his face as she grips his hair, forcing him to bare his throat. "Lying is a sin."

"Let him go," Dash coughs, breath weak. He's slowly gaining strength, but not fast enough to run away. And Danny is healing, but not fast enough to save them both. It's been so long, he thinks he doesn't remember how to save anyone anymore. Arameya looks at him, that smile cursing her lips, and grips Danny harder.

"I can hear your internal wishes and desires, child." She pushes his hair back, her fingers stinging his skin. The blood pumps steadily into his palms. She looks him in the eyes, her grip pulling on his scalp, pain shooting through his head. "And never have I seen the absence of any like I do in you."

Danny freezes. The blood on his hands is so hot it's burning. His heart skips a beat and stutters back to life, a thud in his chest. "Get off me," Danny says, and he doesn't hurt anymore. He's slipped back into pushing it out, because suddenly he remembers how. How easy it is to ignore the pain when he’s got the anger to focus on instead. 

Arameya lets him go. She turns to Dash, who has gone quiet in his struggle to get up. He's sweating, pain etched into his skin. "Okay," she says, going over to the blond. "Your desires are so much more clear. Even the ones you are trying to hide."

"Hey!" Danny yells, reaching for her, unsurprised when his hand phases through her. "He's with me! Get off him!"

"Nice to see you come alive, child. Maybe we should fix that."

But she doesn't move towards him. She keeps moving towards Dash, her hands now claws, their sharp points gleaming in the moon's light. "Fenton, we gotta–"

"I know Dash," he grits out, doing his best to get up. His side is starting to heal now. Doesn't stop it from hurting. He lets out a ragged breath and stands up. Arameya doesn't even look at him and maybe she shouldn't because he tumbles back down. His knees hit the floorboards with a sickening  _ thunk  _ and he knows bruises are blooming over both of them. She’s still moving towards Dash, that smile on her face, and Danny wants to rip it off.

Instead, he crawls, ignoring the pain that's everywhere in that practiced way of his because goddamnit it's  _ Dash  _ and Dash sucks but Danny can't let him die. He spent too many years saving Amity Park for Dash to bite it. So he puts one hand in front of another, knees aching, ignoring the splinters digging into his palm, and crawls to him.

When Danny reaches him, he doesn't think. He can't anymore. He's injured. He's weak. He's not healing fast enough. He can't hold it back, the thrum under his skin and the singing through his veins. The very thing he has been suppressing since stepping off Amity Park’s soil. It’s not his decision to make anymore, it’s survival instincts kicking in full gear. He fucking hates it. 

For the first time in over two years, Danny changes.

He feels that ache in his ribs, the absence of a pulse. The stillness of a heart. The breath punches out of his lungs and he keels over, pain sweeping all of his senses because it's been  _ too long _ . He scrabbles at his chest, panicking as he desperately gasps for breath. He’s not used to this part anymore. He didn't think he could get out of practice from dying, but the shift leaves him dazed and confused for a moment he doesn’t have.

When the light fades, he raises his hands. He can feel him now, the ghost inside him, the thing that refuses to give up. With a start, he realizes he's missed it. The rush of power, the strength in his bones, he's missed how safe he feels in this portion of himself, even if it was constantly getting put in danger. Now that it’s here, he wonders how he ever could have forgotten how good Phantom’s power feels. 

"Well, take a look at that," Danny says, crossing his arms. He's still that skinny, scrawny kid who spent his days being shoved into lockers, but he's grown into himself now. Into the breadth of his shoulders, his ears, how he holds himself. When Danny is Phantom, he refuses to slouch or look small. He isn't afforded that luxury. "Looks like I did fix it."

For the first time in years, he curls his hand into a fist and pulls it back. When it connects with Arameya's face, she blasts back, a blast of ectoplasm vaulting her to the other side of the room. Oops. He definitely didn't mean to do that. He doesn't have the time to think about it. While she's gathering herself he goes to Dash, the cut in his own side healed now. The football star is staring at Danny like he's seen...well... _ that _ .

"Fenton? What the fuck?"

"Not the time, Dash," he says. And he's stronger in this form. Can easily haul Dash up now, even if the other still towers over him. He puts one of Dash's arms around his shoulders and wraps his other around Dash's waist, easily holding the weight. Phantom is strong and right now Danny needs every ounce of it. 

Arameya is up again, fury painting her face, her form feeding off it. "Y-you!" she says, pointing a long claw at Danny. "You deceived me!"

"Yeah, get in line," Danny snarls, too angry, too power hungry, to play the witty comeback game anymore. 

Arameya charges towards him but in this form it's easy for him to dodge her attacks. Her rage is palpable with each missed hit until she's had enough, her hands glowing with her power. "You think you can get away from me, boy? You think you're stronger than me?"

Danny shifts, putting an arm under Dash's knees so he's carrying the other man now. Dash groans in pain but doesn't protest, and Danny takes that as a small blessing. "I don't  _ think _ ," he says, allowing his feet to push off the floor. It's been too long since he's flown, and for a second he feels unsteady alone in the air. Like someone has yanked him upside down. So he lets it come back naturally, lets his legs fuse so he can maneuver easier. "I know."

It's the wrong thing to say for all the right reasons, and it makes her even angrier. She blasts Danny and he miscalculates, realizes he won't miss it before it hits him square in the chest and he's flying back into one of the other walls, dust rising around him. She hits him again, in the arm, and it sears pain over his skin. Other things, human things, don't hurt him in this form. But this is ghostly power, and it burns his skin until it's charred. It'll heal, he knows, so he bites through it and pretends his skin isn't overcooked.

"Fenton...Phantom, whatever! We've gotta get out of here."

"I can't leave her. She's hurting people."

"You're hurt!"

Danny rolls his shoulder. His arm is already starting to heal. He's mad. "I know." Gently, he places Dash onto the floor next to him, and does his best to pile boxes in a small barrier. "Just. Wait here. I'll be done in a minute."

Alright. No more fucking around. He's tired. He's hurt. He's mad that this ghost, whoever she used to be, is fucking up his life. Has fucked it up beyond repair. Has made him do things he'd sworn to forget. Spent nights screaming trying to forget. He can feel it building in his chest, the rage in his veins. He can feel it building and building until it feels like there's only rage, only this power behind it that holds the key to his victory. This is the same thing Arameya feels, he knows. The same rage that causes ghosts to go feral and wild. At the moment, he can't find it in him to care. "Why don't you just admit defeat, go back to the ghost zone, and we'll forget this ever happened. Easy."

She growls at him, something disgusting from the base of her throat. A monster sound. "You're pathetic, boy," she spits, raising her hand again. "You are nothing. Not human. Not ghost. Lost in your own shame."

Okay. That one hurt. She blasts at him and in that split second Danny remembers how to do his ecto-shield. It comes back easily to him, and it deflects the blow she sent out. "At least I'm still pretty," he says, flying towards her. He manages to land a punch to her abdomen, making her bend over and stumble back.

"You'll pay for that child!" she screams.

"Not a child!" he yells back, sending an ecto-blast of his own. It misses, burning a hole into the side of the wall. Oops.

Arameya rushes him, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him back into a window. He just manages to phase through without breaking it, and goes back in with renewed vigor. He has forgotten what adrenaline feels like. That the fights were not all bad because they make him feel like  _ this _ . Strong. Alive. Ready to take on the world even if his muscles ache and his wounds are still healing. 

"I told you once to get out," he says, eyes glowing. He knows that he looks like pure power. He fucking loves it. "I'm not asking again."

Arameya screams something that sounds like a banshee's call and flies toward Dash. It's one last-ditch escape to win, and it makes Danny angry. He can feel that rage building back up into his chest. It pours into his lungs, slowly chokes him even as he lays dead. He can feel it drowning him, pouring into his throat, pushing into his mouth until it's clinging to the back of his teeth. Desperate. Wild. Powerful.

"I said,  _ get out!" _

That's what he means to scream. He swears he does, but the anger in him wins out. It's not a scream that comes out. It's not a scream that charges the air with its power. It's a  _ wail _ , loud and resilient. It tears at his muscles, burns in the back of his throat. He can feel the throbbing of his still-bleeding wounds. But it does its job. It pushes Arameya away from Dash, and it starts to strip her. As Danny got older, he honed his skill, made it his own last minute Fenton Thermos. 

He tries to focus now, his power seeping out of his with each new pitch he wails at. Arameya gets smaller, smaller, and even smaller still until she's gone, stripped of her right to be in this plane. Danny's made sure of that, but now he's drained. His entire body feels like it's been run over by twenty trucks at the same time. The fight leaves him just as his legs do, and the last thing he feels before passing out is the air kicking back into his lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! you can find me on tumblr @criminallyoverated or on twitter @etoshimacos ! as always, comments and kudos are appreciated <3


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